


Never Stopped Me Before! (Christmas Fic)

by noodlecatposts



Series: ACOTAR Christmas 2019 [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Breaking and Entering, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Horrible Christmas Sweater?, Mutual Pining, Pining, Rhys is Afraid of Elf on the Shelf, Tumblr Prompt, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 12:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21635185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlecatposts/pseuds/noodlecatposts
Summary: “Did you break into my house??”“You refused to put up any Christmas decorations! What choice did I have?”Christmas Tumblr prompt: Feyre "breaks" into Rhys's house to decorate for Christmas.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron & Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: ACOTAR Christmas 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562683
Comments: 2
Kudos: 91





	Never Stopped Me Before! (Christmas Fic)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm avoiding adult responsibilities by trying to see how many Christmas prompts I can shove into one body of work. Click [here for the post!](https://writersblockbecomesunblocked.tumblr.com/post/181316269601/christmas-writing-prompts)
> 
> I hope you all are enjoying the holidays!

“Feyre?” I exclaim in shock, looking around in dismay at the mess of a living room I’ve discovered. It seems as if Christmas has thrown up, spewing gold and red tinsel into every corner of the space, and there’s a misshapen Christmas tree shoved into one corner.

I felt no small amount of concern tonight, upon returning home to find all the lights on inside my home. I'd been out of town, on a business trip. There was no way I'd managed to leave everything on before I left to catch my flight, even if I had been in a rush. I was also rather meticulous about those kinds of things, worse just before a trip. Mor liked to call it obsessive, but I preferred the term _careful._

“Uh, did,” My eyes widen at the sight of the positively _horrific_ sweater the young woman wears. It’s a navy-blue thing with a cat on it, mouth agape and eyes wide open; multi-colored lights are woven into the fabric, and they work—bloody hell—it _blinks._ I'll never be able to erase the sight from my mind. 

“Rhys!” Feyre at least does me the courtesy of looking a little guilty, flashing a cringey smile in my direction. “You weren’t supposed to be home so soon!”

Her words give me the strength to break eye contact with red and blue flashing cat eyes. I swallow, uncomfortably aware of how I was just staring at her chest, even without meaning too. “Feyre darling," I purr, pretending to be unaffected by her presence in my home. "Did you break into my house?”

Feyre looks appalled by the insinuation. “You refused to put up any Christmas decorations! What choice did I have?”

She blushes prettily as if realizing her admittance, and it makes my heart do something funny in my ribcage. Feyre shakes a familiar keychain at me. “Is it breaking and entering if I have a key?”

Morrigan, the Traitor.

“Depends on whether or not you’re supposed to have the key, I suppose.” I muse, smiling when Feyre shrugs it off. I watch in dismay as she tosses them in the general direction of the couch; my cousin won’t be getting those back, I think.

“It’s never stopped me before!” Feyre’s golden brown hair disappears from view as she digs through another box, determined. I hadn't ever pegged Feyre for a Christmas fanatic; somehow it makes me like her more.

“That statement leaves me with questions,” I tell her, watching with affection. To say I have a crush on Feyre would be a gross understatement. I’m positively _enamored_ with her, and until recently, Feyre was utterly off the market. Now, she’s healing, enjoying a safe space amongst her friends, and I’ve no intention of threatening that. Ever. So, I've kept my feelings to myself. Well, sort of. My family has all, one by one, seen right through my teasing and flirting for the quiet longing it is. _I'm so gone for this girl_.

She's the only one who hasn't noticed.

So, I just ignore the pitter-patter of my heart in favor of eating the popcorn I discover on a nearby box. It smells heavenly, and I am starving, with no clear path towards my kitchen. I watch as Feyre scrambles around, and when she finally resurfaces with a triumphant grin, clutching something that could be a star or just an ambiguous lump of paper mâché, my heart nearly gives out with overwhelming fondness. This is a cruel joke; it has to be. Why on Earth would Feyre feel the need to decorate my home?

“_Because_,” Feyre’s voice is pointed; she gestures with a tangled strand of lights in my direction. I must have spoken aloud. “It’s _Christmas_. You can’t just not decorate! Where will Santa put all your presents?”

I raise a brow in question; Feyre and I are both old enough to know that Santa isn’t real. Feyre rolls her eyes at me, continues her attempts to disentangle the string of lights, but she shoots me her best glare at my snacking. “Stop eating all the popcorn! It’s supposed to go on the tree!”

I lift a handful of popcorn to my mouth in challenge. Feyre tries to look mad, honestly, but her face breaks out into amusement instead. I’m filled with a familiar longing ache.

“Santa is just a fat man who breaks into your house with little men who know if you’re good or bad,” I inform her, chewing on the mouthful of popcorn. I pick my way through my living room, trying to find a place to sit amongst the wasteland of ornaments and bells. Nowhere is safe.

“How do they know?” I ask her, my voice rife with conspiracy. “How do they keep track of whether or not you held the door for the little old lady at the post office?”

“You always hold the door for me,” Feyre muses, tossing the tangled lights away from her, giving up. I wonder if anything will ever actually make it onto the tree. I find I don't care either way, but I am enjoying watching Feyre at her work.

“How do they know that _you_ were the one to eat all of Elain’s Christmas cookies?”

“That was _you!_” Feyre cries. “Cassian got in so much trouble! She wouldn’t speak to him for _days._”

“Not the point,” I wave her off, and Feyre nearly breaks my heart with the smile she sends my way. “The point _is,_ how do these little… _elves_ know what we’re all up to? Does this mean they’re stalking—"

“Stop!” Feyre begs, even as laughter crinkles her eyes. “You’re ruining Christmas for me.”

I feel the grin spread out across my face at her happiness, can’t resist making her smile more. “And don’t you think gingerbread houses with gingerbread men in them are kinda morbid?” Feyre laughs, my favorite sound in this universe. There was such a long time when we could barely get her to smile. “I mean, it’s a house made out of flesh.”

“You’re the reason Santa even has a naughty list!” She shouts at me, even as she wipes tears from her eyes.

"_You broke into my house!_" I persist before she can argue the technicalities with me. “And you know what else is just terrifying? Those damn elf on the shelf things. They watch you all the time. All. The. Time. Think about that while you're littering my home with _dead trees_.”

“_Fake_ dead trees,” Feyre explains, waving a crumpled tree branch at me. It must belong to the beat-up thing by my window; the poor thing must be missing its arm. Suddenly, Feyre whips out a box like some kind of devious magic trick. “So, and I'm just guessing here, you don’t want this little guy on your fireplace mantle? I thought we could name him Carver.”

I feel a little funny at her choice of words. _We could name him_. I have to tell myself to stop being a complete fool. Get it together, man. When I don’t say anything, Feyre shakes the box at me to get my attention, and Carver jostles in the box, staring up at me with his creepy eyes and knowing smile.

“I’d like Carver to stay in his box, please.” I’m unashamed at the way my voice quavers. Those things creep me out. “Preferably inside a second box. One made of steel and buried ten feet underground. In the middle of nowhere, if we’re to be picky.”

Her laughter keeps me from rambling on. “I thought he was cute. I like him.”

“I like you,” I tell her before I can stop myself. We both gasp at my words, and I immediately spiral into oblivion. Idiot, idiot, _idiot._

“You do?” Feyre whispers, shock on her face. Yet, I see in her eyes a mirror of my own feelings, uncertainty, and… hope.

“Is it not horribly obvious?” I ask her. “Mor says all I do is give you pathetic puppy dog eyes.”

“I thought you were just being nice,” Feyre whispers. “Because you felt bad for me. Because you pitied me.”

“_Never_,” I breathe. Feyre's words have ignited a spark of hope within me; I want to reach out and touch her, brush that stray lock of hair of hers behind her ear. It's always in her face. And kiss her. I’d very much like to kiss her.

I step towards my crush, excited at the prospect that she might be receptive to my feelings too. Feyre looks breathless, just as enthusiastic as I am. I’m practically walking on air.

Lost in the moment, I don’t notice the pile of plastic candy canes lying in wait at my feet, and I trip over them, tumbling without ceremony into a pile of golden garland. Feyre’s giggles fill the room. It’s bittersweet, to make such a fool of myself and make her so happy at the same time.

Then Feyre’s smiling face appears over me; instead of attempting a rescue, she leans into my space and brushes her lips over mine, stopping my heart with ease. “I like you, too,” she whispers.

It’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. Maybe this Christmas won’t be so bad, after all.

*****

“Can I have your picture so I can show Santa what I want for Christmas?” I ask Feyre later, curled up by a warm fire. We’ve accepted defeat in the war against Christmas for now. Elain and Azriel will be by tomorrow; no doubt, they’ll conquer the task for us tomorrow.

“You’re getting coal this year,” Feyre tells me, but she smiles and brushes a kiss along my cheek anyway.


End file.
